


The World Will Know: The Horrifying True Tale of Jack and Davey

by NotLeonardBernstein (NotRaymondChandler)



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Based on Newsies (1992), Bisexual Disaster Jack Kelly, Blackmail, Comedy, Crack, Crutchy is a flat earther, Dancing and Singing, Davey does his damned best okay, Davey is a badass revolutionary with a god damned idiot for a mouthpiece, Don't question it, Epic Friendship, Explicit Language, F/M, It Was Meant To Be, Jack Kelly Being an Idiot, Jack and Davey are Not Like Other Newsies, Kid Blink sees all and has your number sucker, Kloppman is a creep who thumps kids for fun, M/M, Murder, Musical References, Musicals, New York City, Newsies References, Parody, Racetrack is sick of everyone's shit, References to Drugs, Revolution, Serial Killers, Song Parody, TRUST NO ONE, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is a crackfic musical be prepared for anything, Tragedy, Tragedy/Comedy, Violence, WTF, Worker's Rights, Yes this is a full on musical, almost everyone is an asshole, almost everyone is either lying or hiding something, in the dark all characters are morally grey, it's all gone so horribly wrong, it's not his fault that Jack is an eternal fuck up, late 1890's shenanigans, references to murder, striking, watch the fuck out for Skittery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29451381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotRaymondChandler/pseuds/NotLeonardBernstein
Summary: The true story of the Newsies strike of 1899 and how it all went horribly, horribly wrong.
Relationships: Crutchie/David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, David Jacobs/The Revolution, Mush Meyers/Skittery, Racetrack/everyone, Spot Conlon/Jack Kelly, but only in his dreams
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Act 1, Scene 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The rights to everything Newsies related belongs to a mouse. Being human and not a mouse, I obviously do not own the rights to Newsies, I am merely making a parody for laughs, not profit. Haha! See how fun it is to laugh? Don't sue me, mouse, please! XD

**Act 1, Scene 1.** **  
** **  
** **RACETRACK:** In 1899, the streets of New York City echoed with the voices of newsies, peddling the newspapers of Joseph Pulitzer, William Randolph Hearst and other colossal dickheads of the newspaper world. _(Starts getting worked up)_ Seriously, they were such fucking assholes, they paid children pennies to work themselves to the bone sellin’ papes while they sat on their asses and got rich. _(Takes a deep breath to try and calm himself before continuing on.)_ On every street corner you saw 'em, carrying the banner, bringing you the news for a penny a pape. Poor orphans and run-aways, murderers and addicts, the newsies were a ragged army, without a leader, until one day when all that changed. Now, sometimes what a ragged army needs is a leader, _(starts getting angry again)_ but other times maybe they woulda been better off without one, if you catch my drift. Some people just aren’t meant to lead and should probably just have kept their big mouths shut.  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(coming out of the woodwork and butting in like a pal but also a jerk)_ But Race, Jacky Boy was just trying to help! It’s not his fault so many people died!  
  
 **RACETRACK:** _(annoyed)_ Shut the fuck up, Crutchy, go jerk off over Jack somewhere else, I’m the one narrating this fucking story, no one gives a shit what you have to say, now SCRAM!  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(shoots Racetrack a wounded puppy look and then proceeds to scram as instructed, limping away sadly on his crutch in an exaggerated fashion.)_ **_  
_****_  
_****RACETRACK:** _(shaking his head and sighing with deep disdain)_ Now, where was I? Oh yeah, Jack Kelly fucked everything up for everyone. And Davey -  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(yelling from offstage)_ Hey! Davey is the King of New York, don’t you dare talk shit about Davey!  
  
 **RACETRACK:** _(turning and yelling back even louder)_ I SAID, SHUT THE FUCK UP CRUTCHY! Or I’ll make what the Delancey brudders did to you look like a romantic night out on the town with the mayor’s daughter, ya treacherous piece of shit! _(clears his throat and then turns back to address the audience)_ Fine, fine, Davey tried his best, but his brains were no match for Jack’s total ignorance and huge fucking mouth. And even though Jack was merely supposed to be a glorified mouthpiece for Davey’s brilliant ideas, he somehow managed to fuck that up too. _(muttering to himself)_ You just _had_ to go off script, didn’t ya, Jacky Boy? _(getting increasingly distressed)_ Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! _(takes a deep breath to steady himself and then addresses the audience again.)_ This is the true story of how Jack Kelly turned the newsies strike of 1899 into the bloodiest battle the streets of New York have ever seen and of how Davey couldn’t fucking stop him, no matter how hard he tried. May the Lord have mercy on their souls, because I sure fuckin’ won’t.  
  
 _(The title of the musical appears. We see the outside of the Newsboys Lodging House. Inside, Kloppman, the creepy old owner, enters the bunkroom, finding the boys still in bed. He smiles wickedly, totally ready to start some shit with a bunch of orphaned children.)_ _  
_ _  
_ **KLOPPMAN:** _(still grinning like an evil bastard)_ Boots! Skittery! Skittery! Skittery! _(thumps Skittery’s sleeping form under his threadbare blanket)_ _  
_ _  
_ **SKITTERY:** _(startled and in a panic, still half asleep)_ Wha..I didn't do it! I swear, the body was like that when I found it!  
  
 **KLOPPMAN:** What do you mean you didn't do it? And what’s this about a body? _(waves hands nervously)_ Never mind, never mind, I don’t want to know! Will you get up? When you get up, it's time to get up, so get up and stop flapping your gums about bodies before you get yourself locked up in the refuge and I have to find someone else to take your bed! _(turns and thumps Snitch)_ Snitch! Get up! Get up! Everybody's sleeping, holy shit. _(walks around thumping random children awake.)_ They sleep their lives away these damned kids! The presses are rolling, ya little shits! Sell the papers, sell the papers! Come on, come on. _(turns to Jack and caresses his sweaty hair creepily as he sleeps)_ You dreaming about selling papers, Jacky boy?  
  
 **JACK:** _(waking up, still dazed)_ Mmmmmm? _(opens his eyes just enough to realize that Kloppman is the one pawing at him and slaps his hand away)_ What's the matta with you? Get the fuck off me, old man!  
  
 **KLOPPMAN:** _(looking offended)_ What's the matter with me? What’s the matter with you?  
  
 **JACK:** No! What's the matta with you, asshole? Can’t ya let a guy sleep in peace? I was dreamin’ about bein’ a cowboy in Santa Fe, you dream wrecker! Now, fuck off! _(angrily puts pillow over his head and tries to get back to sleep)_  
  
 **KLOPPMAN:** Come on! _(gives him a hard shove, knocking him out of his bunk)_ _  
_ _  
_ **JACK:** _(shouting from the floor)_ Get away from me, you're mad!  
  
 **KLOPPMAN:** _(laughing maniacally as he looks down at Jack’s body lying prone on the floor)_ Haha. _(kicks Jack)_ Get up boy! Come on. Alright! Carry the banner! Sell the papers!  
  
 **JACK:** _(muttering angrily under his breath as he struggles to get up)_ I swear to God, I’m gonna murder that old man one day.  
  
 _(Racetrack looks around for his cigar, noticing that Snipeshooter has it)_ _  
_ _  
_ _(Song starts)_ _  
_ _  
_ **RACETRACK:**  
That's my cigar!  
  
 **SNIPESHOOTER:**  
Go fuck your mudder!  
  
 **KID BLINK:**  
Hey assholes, we got work to do!  
  
 **SNITCH:** **  
**Did’ya hear Skittery done a murder?  
  
 **CRUTCHY:**  
Aww, stop your snitchin’!  
  
 **NEWSIES:**  
Yeah, who asked you?  
  
 **MUSH:** _(suspiciously trying to distract from the talk of murder)_ So, how'd you sleep Jack?  
  
 **JACK:** _(annoyed and still aching from being shoved out of his bunk and onto the floor)_ On me back Mush, how the fuck d'ya think I slept? Hangin’ upside down like some kind of Dracula or vampire bat or somethin’? _(muttering angrily under his breath)_ Ya fuckin’ moron.  
  
 **MUSH:** ( _so relieved he managed to veer the topic away from murder that he is oblivious to Jack’s rudeness and insults)_ Ha ha. Hear that fellas? Hear what Jacky boy said? I asked Jack how he slept and he said 'On me back Mush'! _(slaps his knee with mirth)_ Fuckin’ classic, fellas! I love it!  
  
 **JACK:** _(shaking his damn head)_ It’s not that fuckin’ funny, Mush, but whatever floats ya boat, ya fuckin’ weirdo.  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(butting in like a pal but also a jerk)_ Hey Jack, when I walk, does it look like I'm faking it?  
  
 **JACK:** No, not really. Who says you're faking it?  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(looking nervous and shifty all of a sudden)_ I dunno. Nobody. Everybody. Lotsa people. I mean, it's just there's so many fake crips on the street today, a real crip ain't got a chance, ya know what I mean Jack?  
  
 **JACK:** _(nods like the chum(p) that he is)_ Yeah, those fakers give people like you a bad name, Crutchy.  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(laughing nervously as he runs his hands through his hair, letting go of his crutch without realizing it, it clatters to the floor loudly)_ I gotta find me a new selling spot where they ain't used to seeing me.  
  
 **KID BLINK:** _(notices Crutchy standing without the aid of his crutch and makes an exaggerated expression of shock and total glee, realizing he finally has something on that little shit Crutchy.)_ _  
_ _  
_ **JACK:** _(picks up the crutch and hands it back to Crutchy wordlessly, perhaps politely, perhaps ignorantly, ignoring the fact that he is standing up just fine without it.)_ _  
_ _  
_ **SKITTERY:** _(creeping up to the boys, trying to appear nonchalant)_ Hey fellas, supposin' ya had to hide a body, where d'ya think would be the best place to do it?  
  
 **MUSH:** _(chiming in helpfully in song)_  
Try Bottle Alley or the harbour!

 **RACETRACK:**  
Try Central Park, it's guaranteed!  
  
 **JACK:**  
Full of dead bakers, bums, and barbers!  
  
 **SKITTERY:** _(without thinking)_  
I love to watch those mudders bleed!  
  
 **JACK:** _(no longer in song)_ Wait, what?  
  
 **SKITTERY:** _(laughing nervously)_ Haha, just foolin'!  
  
 **KID BLINK:** _(resumes singing, oblivious to the murder confession, as he is now too busy planning on blackmailing Crutchy to notice anything else that’s happening around him. He turns to Crutchy and rubs his hands together menacingly)_  
I smell money  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(suddenly frightened and trying to deflect)_  
You smell foul!  
  
 **MUSH:** _(trying to distract from the murder talk)_  
Met this girl last night _  
  
_ **KID BLINK:** _(trying to elbow Crutchy's crutches out of his grip)_ _ _  
_ _  
__ **CRUTCHY:** _(trying unsuccessfully to fight him off)  
_ Move your elbow! _  
  
_ **RACETRACK:** _(totally uninvolved in any of this bullshit and just trying to dry his damned face)  
_ Pass the towel! _  
  
_ **SKITTERY:** _(throws Racetrack a towel stained with what appears to be blood.)_  
 _ _  
__ **KID BLINK:** _(now trying to wrestle the crutches out of Crutchy's hands)_  
For a buck I might!  
  
 **NEWSIES:** **  
**Ain't it a fine life  
Carrying the banner through it all?  
A mighty fine life  
Actin' like we're all tough and tall  
Every morning, we goes where we wishes  
  
 **SKITTERY:** murderin' some bitches!  
  
 **** **NEWSIES:** _(collectively shrugging)_  
Good thing we ain’t snitches  
  
 **SNITCH:** _(piping up, offended, not in song)_ Hey, fellas!  
  
 **SKITTERY:** _(singing)_  
What a fine life  
Buryin' some bodies in the park!  
  
 _(The newsies leave the Lodging House and head towards Newsies Square.)_  
  
 **RACETRACK:** _(breaks in to narrate again)_ Gee, would ya take a look at good ol’ Newsies Square? We really had it all, didn't we? A lodging house, our own square, damn, thanks to Medda the Swedish Meadowlark we even had our own brothel cum cabaret, it truly did seem like a fine life. Before things got bad, anyway. Fucking Jack. God damn him. God damn him to hell.  
  
 **NEWSIES:** _(Singing)_  
Summer stinks and winter's waiting  
Welcome to New York

 **SKITTERY:** **  
**Boy, ain't bodies fascinatin'  
When you cut 'em up?  
  
 **NEWSIES:** _(looking at each other nervously and then collectively shrugging again)_ _  
_Still, it's a fine life  
Carrying the banner with me chums

 **SKITTERY:** **  
**A mighty fine life  
Killin' every customer that comes!  
  
 **JACK:** _(no longer in song)_ Skittery, seriously, what the fuck?  
  
 **SKITTERY:** _(creepily open eye laughing at Jack)_ Nothin' Jacky boy, nothin', I'm just foolin'.  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(butting in like a pal but also such a fucking jerk, busting a move as he sings and waves his crutch in the air)_ _  
_I'm no faker  
But crutches makes me antsy  
I likes gettin' dancy  
  
 **NEWSIES:** _(warning Crutchy)_ ** _  
_**Avoid Harlem to Delancey  
  
 **SKITTERY:** **  
**What a fine life  
Carrying the bodies through the slums!  
  
 **JACK:** _(takes Skittery aside then says in a stage whisper)_ Look, I know you say you're just foolin' with the murder stuff, but you're takin' the joke a bit far, don't ya think? Maybe you should...I dunno...take it down a notch so's ya don't scare the others? Whatta ya say?  
  
 **SKITTERY:** _(looking at Jack with the dead eyed stare of a shark)_ I say you keep your thoughts to yourself, Jacky boy.  
  
 **JACK:** _(confused)_ Are you threatenin' me?  
  
 **SKITTERY:** _(laughs woodenly and then smiles at Jack, though his smile still doesn't reach his eyes)_ I dunno Jack, am I?  
  
 **JACK:** _(looks at Skittery for a long minute and then laughs)_ Haha, good joke Skittery, good joke. Of course ya didn't murder nobody.  
  
 **SKITTERY:** That's right, I didn't murder no body. _(Muttering under his breath with a wicked smile)_ I murdered lotsa bodies.  
  
 **JACK:** What was that?  
  
 **SKITTERY:** _(pulls a nickel out of his pocket)_ I said I got that nickel I owe you for the time you spotted me for some papes.  
  
 **JACK:** _(confused)_ I didn't spot you for no papes, did I?  
  
 **SKITTERY:** _(looking at him with those creepy dead shark eyes again)_ Yeah, ya did, Jacky boy.  
  
 **JACK:** _(Thinks about it for a second, a nickel is a nickel after all)_ Ohhh...yeah...that's right, I did, I remember now.  
  
 **SKITTERY:** _(nodding with that same evil smile)_ That's right, Jack, ya did. Here, catch! _(Flips coin in air.)_ _  
_ _  
_ **JACK:** _(catches the coin, suspecting he may just have been bought by a killer, but hey, like I said, a nickel is a fucking nickel, you can't judge him)_ Thanks. _(Starts to turn away and then realizes what a golden opportunity this is.)_ Wait, Skittery, didn't I spot ya a nickel twice?  
  
 **SKITTERY:** _(bares his teeth in an even more false and terrifying smile, reaches into his pocket and pulls out another nickel which he shoves into Jack's hand roughly)_ Right you are, Jacky boy, you did.  
  
 _(Suddenly fucking nuns appear out of nowhere, startling the blackmailer and the murderer, and start handing out moldy old food to all the boys)_ _  
_ _  
_ **NUNS:** _(singing self righteously)_ _  
_Blessed children though you wander lost and depraved  
  
 **JACK:** _(not singing)_ Depraved? Ha! Look who's talkin' ya hypocrites. And we ain't lost, us newsies know the streets of this city better than anybody!  
  
 **NUNS:** **  
**Jesus loves you, you shall be saved!  
  
 **JACK:** _(still not singing)_ This rotten, stinkin' food ain't worth the preachin', I swear to fuckin' god. You can stick your Jesus up your ass and smoke it, ya shrill demon harpies.  
  
 **NUNS:** _(start crossing themselves furiously, backing away from the heathen child)_ _  
_ _  
_ **PATRICK'S MOTHER:** _(who the actual fuck is Patrick or his mother?)_ _  
_Patrick, darling  
Since you left I am undone  
Mother loves you  
God save my son  
  
 _(Sung in counterpoint)_ **  
** **  
** **RACETRACK:** _(making goo goo eyes at the total MILF that is Patrick's mom)_ _  
_What’s shakin’ buttercup?  
  
 **KID BLINK:** _(pulls a small box of snuff out of his pocket and takes a long, disgustingly loud snort from it)_ _  
_Something to wake me up  
  
 **MUSH:** _(near hysteria, trying to figure out what to do when the full force of the NYPD is on him for his part in Skittery's crimes)_ _  
_I gotta find an angle!  
  
 **KID BLINK:** _(nods at Crutchy warningly and thumps his fist into his palm like Kloppman thumping a sleeping boy)_ _  
_ _  
_ **CRUTCHY:** _(looking nervously away from Kid Blink, trying to figure out how to get the money to pay his blackmailer off)_ _  
_I gotta sell more papes!  
  
 **SKITTERY:** **  
**Murder is all I got  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(begging Kid Blink)_ **  
**Don’t tell on me please  
  
 **JACK:** **  
**I think I’m in love with Spot  
  
 **SKITTERY:**  
I cut bodies up with ease  
  
 **RACETRACK:** **  
**God damn that dame is hot  
  
 **KID BLINK:** _(approaches Crutchy threateningly, ready to shake him down for every penny he has.)_ _  
_ _  
_ **CRUTCHY:** _(desperately trying to escape Kid Blink)_ **  
**Somebody help me, please…  
  
 _(End counterpoint.)_  
  
 **SKITTERY AND MUSH:** **  
**If the coppers come and get me I'll make up a story  
And I'll say anything I hafta  
'Cause it's the noose not the refuge, if I get too sloppy  
They'll just hang me from the rafters  
  
 _(Sung in counterpoint)  
  
_ **VARIOUS NEWSIES:** **  
**Look! They're putting up the headline  
They call that a headline?  
I get better stories from the copper on the beat  
I was gunna start with twenty but even one would be too many  
No wonder Skittery murders people in the street   
  
**SKITTERY AND MUSH:** **  
**What's it say?  
Good it's not about me  
I haven't been caught  
I hope the trail's not hot!  
Will ya tell me how'm I gonna dodge the police?  
  
 _(End counterpoint)_ _  
_ _  
_ **NEWSIES:** _(chiming in to try and help Skittery and Mush)_ _  
_We need a good assassination!  
We need an earthquake or a war!  
  
 **SNIPESHOOTER:** **  
**How 'bout a crooked politician?  
  
 **NEWSIES:** **  
**Hey, stupid, they don't help with that no more!  
Uptown to Grand Central Station  
Down to City Hall  
Pack your shit and run away, man  
Before they hang us all!  
  
 _(Sung in counterpoint)_ _  
_ _  
_1.  
 **VARIOUS NEWSIES:** **  
**Still we'll be out there  
Carrying the banner man to man!  
  
 **SKITTERY:** **  
**Yes, we'll be out there  
Murderin' every sucker that we can!  
  
 **VARIOUS NEWSIES:** **  
**See the headline  
Newsies on a mission  
  
 **SKITTERY:** **  
**Kill the competition  
  
 **VARIOUS NEWSIES:** **  
**Sell the next edition  
While we're out there  
Carrying the banner is the…  
  
2.  
 **VARIOUS NEWSIES:** **  
**Look, they're putting up the headline  
They call that a headline  
The idiot who wrote it must be blowing someone's son  
Didja hear about the fire?  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(acting suspicious and shifty)_ _  
_I didn't set a fire!  
  
 **KID BLINK:** _(rubbing his hands together)_ _  
_I'm raising the blackmail even higher  
  
 **JACK:** **  
**Why do I miss all the fun?  
  
 **RACETRACK:** _(singing to Snitch about his sexual exploits to try and get Patrick's mom, queen of the MILFs, out of his head)_ _  
_...fucked her on a Trolly  
  
 **KID BLINK:** _(looking at Crutchy menacingly)_ _  
_Meetcha Forty-Fourth and Second  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(pleading)_ _  
_Just keep it a secret  
  
 **JACK:** _(mentally checking out of this bullshit and daydreaming about being a cowboy instead of engaging with his friends)_ _  
_Santa Fe's further than I reckoned  
  
 **KID BLINK:** **  
**At the courthouse  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(concerned, trying to negotiate)_ _  
_Near the stables?  
  
 **RACETRACK:** _(continuing to rave about his wild sex life)_ _  
_On the corner some broad beckoned and I…  
  
 _(Suddenly everything comes to a grinding halt as the newsies run right smack into the Delancey brothers, some of the meanest mudders this side of the Brooklyn Bridge, and a regular bunch of bullying dickheads to boot.)_ _  
_ _  
_ **JACK:** _(under his breath)_ Fuck. As if this day couldn't get any fuckin' worse.  
  
 **End of Act 1, Scene 1.**


	2. Act 1, Scene 2

**RACETRACK:** _(narrating)_ When we arrive back at the scene, the air is so thick with tension that you could cut it like a man's throat, as my old chum Skittery would say - and a scuffle is already in progress…  
  
 _(The Delancey brothers, Oscar and Morris, stand like twin gargoyles, ready to beat the shit out of some newsboys.)_ _  
_ _  
_ **RACETRACK:** Holy shit! What is that disgusting stench? I fear the sewer may have backed up during the night, it smells like everyone from Brooklyn to Harlem just shit their pants. _(Gags and starts choking on the foul aroma)_ _  
_ _  
_ **BOOTS:** Nah, too rotten to be the sewers, it smells more like a dead body.  
  
 **SKITTERY:** _(eyes widen as he remembers the body he dumped mere feet away, muttering under his breath)_ Fuck…  
  
 **CRUTCHY** ** _:_** _(butting in like a pal but also like a total jerk, as is his way)_ It must be the Delancey brudders.  
  
 **NEWSIES:** _(collectively guffawing with laughter at Crutchy's astute observation of the Delancey brothers)_ _  
_ _  
_ **SKITTERY:** _(sighs with relief, glad that Crutchy threw everyone off his trail and they didn't try to investigate the stench and find the body. Crosses himself and whispers)_ Thank you, fuckin' Jesus.  
  
 **RACETRACK:** _(winking at the Delancey brothers)_ Hiya boys! Did ya miss me?  
  
 **MORRIS:** Sure we missed you, Race, we missed you like you miss that crip brother of yours.  
  
 **RACETRACK:** Hey! _(Gets in Morris' face, ready to punch him)_ _  
_ _  
_ **MORRIS:** _(squares off with him, ready to throw the first punch and knock him the fuck out)_ _  
_ _  
_ **CRUTCHY:** _(lets go of his crutch without thinking to hold Racetrack back)_ _  
_ _  
_ **JACK:** _(picks up the crutch, pulls Racetrack out of the line of fire and hands Crutchy his crutch back)_ _  
_ _  
_ **KID BLINK:** _(looking around bewildered, his arms outstretched)_ C'mon! You gotta be kiddin' me! Isn't anybody else seein' this? _(Turns to Snipeshooter)_ Please tell me ya saw that!  
  
 **SNIPESHOOTER:** I -  
  
 **OSCAR:** _(to Snipeshooter, cutting him off)_ In the back, you lousy little shit, some papes got caught in the printing press and we need your shrimpy little hands to get 'em out. _(Oscar randomly throws Snipeshooter to the ground, just to be a complete asshole. Jack goes to help him up)_ _  
_ _  
_ **RACETRACK:** It's not good to do that. Not healthy, I heard some kid got his hand cut off by the machine.  
  
 **SNIPESHOOTER:** _(clearly distressed)_ What?!  
  
 **OSCAR:** _(laughs like an evil fuck)_ Yeah, you'd know all about printing press accidents, wouldn't you, Race? What with your dead brother and all.  
  
 **RACETRACK:** Why I oughta kill you with me bare hands!  
  
 **OSCAR:** _(grabbing Snipeshooter by the collar and hoisting him up off the ground)_ C'mon ya lousy little shrimp, whatta ya need hands for anyway? You're just a street rat, you can sell papes with your feet.  
  
 **JACK:** You shouldn't call people street rats, Oscar, unless you're refering to the family resemblance in your brudder here, he sure as fuck looks like a rat. Hey, Oscar, did your mudder fuck a rat or somethin'? Because the resemblance is uncanny. _(Does a completely unnecessary pelvic thrust to punctuate his sick burn and then laughs in the Delancey brothers faces.)_ Ah-ha!  
  
 **RACETRACK:** 5-1 that Cowboy soaks 'em. Who's betting?  
  
 **BOOTS:** Nah! Bum odds.  
  
 **JACK:** That's right. It's an insult. So's this!  
  
 _(Jack knocks Morris' hat off his head and then kicks him square in the nuts as hard as he possibly can before running away. The Delancey's chase Jack around the Square while the rest of the newsies hoot and holler and scream for the blood of the Delancey brothers. David and Les enter and watch the absolute madness unfolding around them in horrified silence until Jack bumps into them, almost knocking David over.)_ _  
_ _  
_ **DAVID:** Hey! What do you think you're doing?  
  
 **JACK:** _(while runnin')_ Runnin'! _(Continues runnin')_ _  
_ _  
_ **NEWSIES** : _(Sung in counterpoint while doing totally sick choreography with more pelvic thrusts than could possibly be considered Christian or even remotely appropriate for children)_ _  
_ **1\. SKITTERY:** **  
**It's a fine life  
Carrying the bodies through it all  
A mighty fine life  
Murderin' some people weak and small  
See the headline  
Skittery's on a mission  
Kill the competition  
Sell the next edition  
What a fine life  
Carrying the bodies!  
 **2\. VARIOUS ASSORTED NEWSIES:** **  
**Would you look at the headline  
You call that a headline?  
I get better stories from the bum on 42nd street  
I was gonna start with twenty but one would be too many  
No wonder Skittery murders people  
How else ya gonna make ends meet?  
Fucked her on a Trolly  
Meetcha Forty-Fourth and Second  
Just keep it a secret  
Santa Fe's further than I reckoned  
By the courthouse  
Near the stables  
On the corner some broad beckoned!  
Go get 'em Cowboy!  
You've got 'em now boy!  
 _(End counterpoint)_  
  
 **NEWSIES:** _(jumping into the air with their fists raised)_

Go!  
  
 **WORLD EMPLOYEE:** _(slamming down a bundle of papes)_ These are for the newsies! Come get ya papes, ya filthy fuckin' street rats!  
  
 _(The newsies line up for their papes, congratulating Jack on beating the Delancey's, who everyone rightfully fucking hates.)_ _  
_ _  
_ **MORRIS:** _(limping over to Jack, holding his nuts, tears streaming down his face, openly weeping)_ See you tomorrow, Cowboy.  
  
 **OSCAR:** _(trying to ignore his weeping brother)_ You're as good as dead, Cowboy.  
  
 **MORRIS:** Yeah, see you in the next life, Cowboy.  
  
 **JACK:** Yeah, about that, don't wait up for me, sweetheart, I don't plan on dyin' until I'm at least twenty.  
  
 **MORRIS:** Oh, I'll be waitin' all right, I'll be fuckin' waitin'.  
  
 **JACK:** _(to Crutchy)_ I didn't know a knee to the nutsack could kill a guy, but I guess our friend Morris here is a special case.  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(guffaws with laughter and drops his crutch)_ _  
_ _  
_ **JACK:** _(silently picks up his friend's crutch and hands it back to him)_ _  
_ _  
_ **KID BLINK:** _(watching this maddening display, muttering furiously under his breath)_ Oh for fuck sake, Jack, are you fuckin' _blind?_ I have a missing eye for the love of Christ, but even _I_ can see what's goin' on here!  
  
 **JACK:** _(swaggering up to the window like the world's cockiest motherfucker, 1899 edition)_ Oh Mr. Weeeeeaseeeeel…  
  
 **WEASEL:** Alright, alright! Keep your pants on! I'm coming, I'm coming. _(Gets to the window, sees that Jack is the one waiting for him and blanches)_ _  
_ _  
_ **JACK:** _(smirking at Weasel)_ So, didja miss me Weasel? Huh, did you miss me?  
  
 **WEASEL:** _(in a frantic stage whisper)_ I told ya a million times, it was dark and I thought you were Medda! _(Speaking more loudly, trying to pretend that this is a perfectly normal interaction)_ The name's Wisel. Mr. Wisel to you. How many?  
  
 **JACK:** _(scoffing in disbelief)_ That's what they all say.  
  
 **WEASEL:** I said, how many? Either you buy some papes or you fucking leave, either way I want you outta my face in the next two minutes or I'm crackin' skulls.  
  
 **JACK:** _(looking Weasel up and down with an amused look on his face, almost as if he's laughing his ass off at the man in his head)_ Don't rush me, I'm perusing the merchandise Mr. Weasel. _(Winks at Weasel)_ _  
_ _  
_ **WEASEL:** _(starts spluttering nonsensically with rage)_ _  
_ _  
_ **JACK:** Ah-ha, it's trash, just as I expected. _(Slams some coins down on the counter)_ The usual.  
  
 **WEASEL:** _(barely containing his rage)_ 100 papes for the wise guy. Next!  
  
 **RACETRACK:** Morning your honor! You're lookin' rather swell today! Listen, do me a favor, spot me 500 papes? I got a hot tip on a dog fight, you won't waste your money.  
  
 **WEASEL:** I thought you said you didn't do dog fights no more?  
  
 **RACETRACK:** I don't, watching two dogs fight makes me sick as a pig ever since the poodle incident, but this time the dog is fightin' a human - some six year old kid from the Bronx has beef with a pitbull, they're gonna fight to the death.  
  
 **WEASEL:** _(suddenly very interested and visibly excited, almost to an uncomfortable degree)_ It's a sure thing?  
  
 **RACETRACK:** _(Nods slowly, grinning wickedly)_ Yeah. Not like last time. _  
__  
_**WEASEL:** _(flushed with 1890's style blood lust and greed)_ 500 papes! Next!  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(waves at Weasel with his crutch and accidentally whacks him in the head)_ Heya Mr. Wisel!  
  
 **RACETRACK:** _(to Skittery)_ So, didya really murder somebody?  
  
 **SKITTERY:** I _didn't_ murder _nobody. (Winks in an exaggerated fashion at Racetrack)_  
  
 **RACETRACK:** _(nods sagely, rubbing his chin)_ I hear ya loud and clear, my liege. Say, lemme know if you're ever interested in gettin' into fightin', somethin' tells me the odds would be heavily in your favor.

 **SKITTERY:** _(to Racetrack in a stage whisper)_ You know your little problem with the Delancey brudders? It's on me. Consider it an audition.

 **RACETRACK:** _(also in a stage whisper)_ You mean...you'll fight?

 **SKITTERY:** _(still speaking in a stage whisper, winking at Racetrack)_ Like that six year old from the Bronx with that pitbull - to the fucking death.

 **RACETRACK:** _(rubbing his hands together)_ We're gonna be richer than the mayor!  
  
 **WEASEL:** 30 papes for Crutchy! Next!  
  
 **JACK:** _(to Les, gesturing to the space next to him on the wall where he is sitting)_ You wanna sit down?  
  
 **LES:** _(struggles to get up on the wall and then finally makes it, sits down breathless)_ _  
_ _  
_ **DAVID:** 20 papers please. Thanks.  
  
 **RACETRACK:** Look at this, 'Baby Born With The Head and Tail of a Lizard'. Must be from the Upper East Side.  
  
 **DAVID:** _(painstakingly counting and recounting his papes)_ _  
_ _  
_ **WEASEL:** _(looking concerned)_ Hey, you got your lously papes, ya street rat, now get the fuck outta here!  
  
 **DAVID:** I paid for twenty. I only got nineteen. And I'm not a street rat.  
  
 **WEASEL:** Are you accusing me of lying, street rat?  
  
 **DAVID:** No. I just want my paper. And I'd prefer if you didn't call me a street rat.  
  
 **JACK:** _(hops down from the wall and goes over to investigate)_ _  
_ _  
_ **MORRIS:** _(still holding his nuts and weeping openly)_ He said beat it, street rat!  
  
 **JACK:** _(counting David's papes on his fingers)_ No, it's nineteen. It's nineteen, but don't worry about it, Weasel, it's an honest mistake. Kinda like mistakin' me for Medda when you was drunk and kissin' me was a mistake, right?  
  
 **DAVID:** _(looks from Jack to Weasel completely dumbstruck)_ _  
_ _  
_ **WEASEL:** _(also completely fucking dumbstruck, and seething with silent rage at being exposed)_ _  
_ _  
_ **JACK:** _(pointedly ignoring both their reactions)_ And besides, Morris here can't count to 20 with his shoes on at the best of times, you can't expect him to count to twenty with a nutsack that's so badly crushed that it's swollen to the size of of a watermelon, now can you? He couldn't see his toes to count 'em if he wanted, now could ya Morris? _(Turning to Racetrack)_ Hey Race, will ya spot me 2 bits? Another 50 papes for my friend here. And if you call him a street rat again, not only will I bust _your_ fuckin' head, but I'll have you thrown in jail.  
  
 **WEASEL:** _(giving Jack a look of horrified shock and betrayal)_ What the fuck?  
  
 **DAVID:** Whoa, hey, it's okay, I don't want another 50.  
  
 **JACK:** Sure you do. Every newsie wants more papes.  
  
 **DAVID:** _(folding his arms across his chest)_ Well, maybe I'm not like other newsies.  
  
 **JACK:** That's impossible, _you_ can't not be like other newsies, because _I'm_ not like other newsies.  
  
 **DAVID:** Oh yeah, and why is that?  
  
 **JACK:** Because unlike the rest of you bums, _I'm_ not gonna be a newsie forever. I'm leavin' this stinkin' island as soon as I get enough money and then I'm goin' out West to Santa Fe to be a cowboy. _(Does a pelvic thrust)_ Yeehaw!  
  
 **DAVID:** Well, I can't blame you for dreaming of a better future, but I'm sure you're not the only newsie who does. I mean, _I_ don't plan on being a newsie forever either.  
  
 **JACK:** Smart guy, huh? Well, what makes you so different then, huh?  
  
 **DAVID:** _(modestly)_ _I_ only want 20 papers.  
  
 **JACK:** Well, that's too bad, because you're gettin' 50 more.  
  
 **DAVID:** I don't take charity from anyone. And besides, I don't know you and I'm not even sure that I want to. _(Hands the extra papes back to Jack)_ Here are your papers, thanks, but no thanks, whatever your name is.  
  
 **LES:** Cowboy. They called him Cowboy.  
  
 **JACK:** Yeah, I'm called that and a lot of other things, including street rat, asshole, handsome, hey kid gimme back my purse and Jack Kelly, which is what me mudder called me. What do they call you kid?  
  
 **LES:** Les, and this is my brother David. He's older.  
  
 **JACK:** No kidding. I thought you was just shorter from getting your legs crushed off in a printin' press accident like Racetrack's little brudder, rest his soul. So how old are you Les?  
  
 **LES:** Me? Near 10.  
  
 **JACK:** Near 10. Well, that's no good. l've been near 10 for 5 years now, you can't be near 10 too, you'll give me away. If anyone asks, you're 7. You see, younger sells more papes and if we're gonna be partners, we wanna be the best.  
  
 **DAVID:** Wait, what?! Who said anything about being partners? I didn't agree to this!  
  
 **JACK:** Well, you owe me 2 bits right? Well, I can get that back from you the easy way, or the hard way.  
  
 **DAVID:** What's the easy way?  
  
 **JACK:** Bein' my partner and sellin' papes with me.  
  
 **DAVID:** Ugh, I was afraid of that. What's the hard way?  
  
 **JACK:** Why don't you ask my friend Skittery over there? You may have heard him singing a beautiful little song earlier, you know, the one about murderin' people and buryin' the bodies?  
  
 **DAVID:** Jesus Christ, aren't you taking things a bit far?  
  
 **JACK:** _(shrugging)_ 2 bits is 2 bits. I'll consider it an investment. We sell together, we split 80-20, plus you get the benefit of observing me, no charge. _(Winks)_ _  
_ _  
_ **DAVID:** Ah-ha.  
  
 **JACK:** _(mocking)_ Ah-ha.  
  
 **DAVID:** Look, I'm flattered but I'm not interested in you in that way.  
  
 **JACK:** _(totally dead faced)_ I don't know what you're talking about, I meant observe me sellin' papes.  
  
 **DAVID:** Oh.  
  
 _(An awkward silence falls over Newsies Square)_  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** _(butting in like a friend, but not also like a jerk this time)_ You're getting the chance of a lifetime here, Davey. You learn from Jacky boy, you learn from the best! I never woulda sold a single pape without him.  
  
 **DAVID:** Well, if he's the best, then how come he needs me?  
  
 **JACK:** Listen, I don't need you, pal, but I ain't got a baby faced little brudder like Les here to front for me. That kid has the face of a god damn angel kissed by the fuckin' fairies at birth or somethin'. With his puss and my God-given talent, we could move at least a thousand papes a week. So what do you say Les? You wanna sell papes with me, you adorable little cash cow?  
  
 **LES:** _(jumping off the wall and trying and failing to do a pelvic thrust)_ Yeah!  
  
 **JACK:** So we got a deal?  
  
 **DAVID:** Wait. It's got to be at least 50-50.  
  
 **JACK:** 80-20.  
  
 **DAVID:** 60-40.  
  
 **JACK:** 70-30, I forget the whole thing.  
  
 **DAVID:** 60-40 or I walk and I take Les with me.  
  
 **JACK:** You drive a hard bargain, Davey, you know what you want and you fight for it, I like that in a partner. Okay, ya gotta deal, 60-40.  
  
 _(David holds out his hand. Jack spits on his hand and reaches for David, who pulls his arm away.)_ _  
_ _  
_ **JACK:** What'sa matta?  
  
 **DAVID:** That's disgusting!  
  
 **JACK:** It's supposed to be. You're lucky it isn't a blood pact.  
  
 **DAVID:** What's that?  
  
 **JACK:** Exactly what it sounds like. Now shake.  
  
 **DAVID:** _(cringing)_ Okay, okay, fine. _(Cringes even harder as he shakes Jack's hand)_ _  
_ _  
_ _(By this time, the rest of the newsies have gotten their papers and are moving out into the street, dancing the whole way and faintly singing a reprise of Carrying The Banner/Bodies.)_ _  
_ _  
_ **JACK:** Now, the name of the game is volume, Davey. You only took 20 papes. Why? Other than you ‘not bein' like other newsies.’  
  
 **DAVID:** Bad headline. No one cares about the trolley strike anymore, it's old news.  
  
 **JACK:** That's the first thing you gotta learn. Headlines don't sell papes, Davey, newsies sell papes. If we didn't make up better headlines, these rags would never sell, haven't you ever _read_ the headlines? They're _always_ bad. You know, we're what holds this town together. Without newsies, nobody knows nothing.  
  
 **DAVID:** Wait, you make up headlines? But that's...lying.  
  
 **JACK:** No, Davey, that's _journalism._ _  
__  
__(The newsies begin to yell out various headlines as they spread out over the streets, still dancing and doing pelvic thrusts and sick leaps and spins.)_ _  
_ _  
_ **SPECS:** Baby Born With Three Heads!  
  
 **RACETRACK:** Man vs Best Friend, A Brutal Fight To The Death!  
  
 **CRUTCHY:** Extra! extra! Read all about it! Scientists Announce That Earth Is Flat After All!  
  
 **SKITTERY:** Dangerous Murderer Stalks The Streets of New York! No One Is Safe!  
  
 **MUSH:** Who Really Killed Lincoln? The Truth The Elites Don't Want You To Know!  
  
 **JACK:** Rockefeller's Secret Lizard Baby Exposed!  
  
 **DAVID:** You call _that_ journalism? It's nothing but sensational lies and slander.  
  
 **JACK:** Trust me, Davey, it's the future of the news, I got a feelin' about it in me gut.  
  
 **DAVID:** Are you serious?  
  
 **JACK:** As serious as a heart attack. Anyway, it sells more papes and you still owe me 2 bits.  
  
 **DAVID:** _(heaving a long suffering sigh)_ Okaaaay…  
  
 **JACK:** Oh, and Davey?  
  
 **DAVID:** Yes?  
  
 **JACK:** If anyone asks, you're 11.  
  
 **DAVID:** _(rolls his eyes to the heavens)_ _  
_ _  
_ **JACK:** _(waving a rolled up paper at a well dressed man passing by)_ Mermaid Washes Up On Rikers Island, Declares Self King of New York!  
  
 **WELL DRESSED MAN:** Why, I never! I'll take 3 copies!  
  
 **JACK:** _(winking at a surprised looking David)_ Told ya, it works like a charm. _(Hands man his papers and then yells out to another passer-by)_ Death Toll Rises in Horrific Blood Soaked Trolley Strike From Hell! Thousands Presumed dead!  
  
 _(We go into Pulitzer's office, fucking vomit, where Pulitzer is reading the day's headline. Also in the room is Jonathan, Seitz and another unimportant and unnamed World employee, let's call him Patient Zero for kicks)_ _  
_ _  
_ **PULITZER:** 'Trolly Strike Drags On For Seventh Week' and this so called headline drags on for a fucking eternity. I would give all the money in The World for a better headline than this boring snooze fest.  
  
 **PATIENT ZERO:** News is slow, Mr. Pulitzer. The trolly strike's all we've got. Unless you want us to finally run the story about all those unexplained murders…  
  
 **PULITZER:** No! How many times do I have to tell you? The murderer is killing off undesirables, people who don't even _read_ The World, he's doing a service to the city and The World. We must have something else we can run!  
  
 **PATIENT ZERO:** No, sir, it's either the trolley strike or the murders.   
  
**PULITZER:** Well, that's all Mr. William Randolph Hearst has too, and he doesn't even _know_ about the murders, or else he'd scoop the story from us just to sell more papers. But look how he covers the strike. Look! Look! _(Waves a paper with the headline Death Toll Rises in Blood Soaked Trolley Strike From Hell)_ _  
_ _  
_ **PATIENT ZERO:** We'll get a new headline writer, sir.  
  
 **PULITZER:** Steal Hearst's man. Offer him double.  
  
 **SEITZ:** That's how he stole him from us, Chief.  
  
 **PULITZER:** Then offer him triple, damn it! The World deserves the best headlines in the world, damn it!  
  
 **SEITZ:** It's not just the headlines, Chief. The circulation wars are cutting into our profits because you spend as much as you make trying to beat Hearst. Just like you are now. Again. You're going to bankrupt The World if you don't slow down.  
  
 **PULITZER:** Then we need to make more money, you fool! This is war and the fate of The World is at stake! You do not penny-pinch when you're in a war, Seitz, how many times do I have to tell you? You have to out-spend the enemy. Victory means everything. No surrender! Now, when I gave birth to The World…what the hell on earth is that God forsaken noise?  
  
 **JONATHAN:** Just the newsies, sir. I'll go have then beaten with a stick until they stop.  
  
 **PULITZER:** Never mind the newsies. Where in The World was I?  
  
 **SEITZ:** Giving birth to The World, Chief.  
  
 **PULITZER:** Ah yes, birthing The World, the most beautiful moment of my life... _(gets lost in misty eyed nostalgia for a moment and then waves his hand dismissively, sniffing back some tears)_ Never mind that, just offer Hearst's headline writer triple what Hearst is paying him. Quadruple. I don't care what it takes. The World deserves only the best.  
  
 **PATIENT ZERO:** But sir -  
  
 **PULITZER:** There's a whole World's worth of money down there in those streets, gentlemen, enough to completely bury Hearst and still have enough left over to truly take over the world. I want to know how I can get all of it...by tonight. The World and perhaps your very lives depend on it.  
  
 **End of Act 1, Scene 2.**


End file.
